Journey Of My Soul
And once again I find myself back on the same road walking aimlessly with no destination to reach to.
A highway where there is no existence of light, life, love, laughter and loyalty.
A highway where is no evidence of pureness, righteousness, spirituality or God.
A highway that reeks of darkness, death, hatred, sadness and betrayal.
A highway where there is no escaping from but doomed forever.
A hypnagonic state of mind I cannot seem to free myself from no matter how hard I try. My cries for help goes unanswered despite both my hands raised begging.
My body aches from battle wounds that never seem to heal. My bare feet bleeds from walking on hell’s road garnished with spikes and broken glass. My bruised hands hurt from shielding the impact of my falls.
The only sounds and vibrations that continuously keep me company are the shuffling of feet coming from the lucipherous demons who continuously dance around me.
The sniggering laughter each time I fall from being shoved by one of them.
My one wing luminiferous angel fought hard and died a heroic death. As I held him in my arms and wept, he begged for my forgiveness for failing in his warrior's oath and duty to protect me.
A slow and lingering death the warrior bearer of light died from as I watched the lucipherous demons greedily feast and suck the energy out of him.
“Narasoma” they chanted in union as they drank from the nectar of immortality. Each time the Cup of Life was filled and gulped from, I died a hundred deaths.
Each pain and suffering inflicted on my dying angel shot through my body a thousand times more for our souls were still bound by the spiritual umbilical cord.
Whispers of immortality echoed in the air. The lucipherous demons watched in glee as my earthly blood was used to sharpen the blade.
The chanting became more and more frenzied as the sword was slowly raised high.
I looked at my dying angel for the last time and asked “Why me? What sins have my soul committed for God to have handed down such a severe sentence?
He whispered, “You have been loved.”
Gay Isn’t Lame
Down and out once again
Wishing someone would take me in
Can't stand these violent cunts
Who strut about calling me crazy
Calling me lazy
Color me relieved as they walk on by
Disappointed I wasn't sad to see you go
Imagining you dying head first in that pile of snow
Keep getting told i'm way too negative
Can't understand what your telling me
How you think you know what's best for me
With those shriveled smiles on their faces
When i'm doing my best just to fake it
Playing at placating the masses
Sounds-like drowning in molasses
I'm sorry your broken too
But that's not my pain
My feet are torn from the path I've blazed
I'm tired of your positivities
If its at my dignity's sake
So make no mistake
Meek doesn't equate to weak
So call me a freak
Gay isn't lame
Make me your shame
So you can hide behind
That blighted smile once more
Let me be that kind of whore
The light and the darkness
He steals away into the night. With feline stealth he opens the window of his room and disappears into the shadows. He explores the alley’s and dark corners of the city. He see’s the drug deals go down. He see’s the rendezvous of secret lovers. He watches the powerful indulge in their wicked lusts. None of the ones he spies upon knows of his existence. He is as invisible as the night is dark. He collects the information that can only be collected in the dark because knowledge is power. To see what happens in secret gives him an advantage.
She walks in the light. Out in the open she feels the warmth of the sun on her face. She goes about her business while it is day least she stumble for lack of vision. She is sure of her destiny and all the promise that the future holds. The hope she holds in her heart radiates from within her being and all those it touches are encouraged.
While she is out she notices him. He is wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans. There is something mysterious about him that she can’t quite put her finger on. Something strange that she has never felt before. The weight of the city seems to pour from his soul and she feels empthy for his condition. She feels the need to save him from the darkness that she senses all around him.
While he is out he sees her. She is wearing a golden flowing dress and sandles. He senses the light and hope that radiates from deep within her and it draws him. He wants to reach out and touch it but something is holding him back. The darkness won’t let him near her. To contaminate her with the things he has seen is too much for him to bear. So he passes her by and she recluctantly goes her own way wondering if she will ever see him again.
The light and the darkness never to mix.
The Crown
Twin spirals and smoke
From fire
It can’t really be - lost
When the diamonds
Are sparkling half-past the crown
There - the flower-footed
Hangmen with dangly-little limbs
We’ve got them locked up in the basement
While we’re looking at
Our wins
It’s your backyard salt water
Letting in that greed
It’s not the castle spire
Door-hook or the heavy-faced staff
We’ve got a million secret hideouts
Where you can’t have your
Rats
But they all still come and find me
And I’m sick of setting traps -
When the shiny treasure’s gone
And there’s no one else to find
And the rocky walls are buried
Under piles of uncrossed lies
We can’t even look -
Cause there’s salt still in our eyes
We are less and we are drowning
And the crown has been denied
Do You Want Each View Intravenously Injected?
Fangs of the mastodon-like beast point
down at us with grisly intent...
...Here we are, and if we're not
we're spent...the blood remains...
upon this razors edge of a fence post of fury
coming back to you on multiplying screens
that glimmer and scream as steam rises
a multitude of differing jagged views burst...
Do you want each view injected?...
...just what is the fate you'd choose
the hearse to bring
when you slide along the knife's
white edge?...
...Meet me at the water's crest,
I'll thirstily mist you with some
sanitary bug spray
'til the night owl hoots a screech,
and yanks these golden blankets
off my swollen grave
that aches...
Diving, I fall into your wet thigh...
...it's either you or I, or both that splash,
but either way we collide and lightening
strikes it's mad note...
...c'mon, and take a well earned bite
out of these fragile moments that have
swiftly ignited and bequeathed themselves
before the many dieties that deign to be
decided...
I feel divided, and deformed
under the lights that build and swarm...
©
6/1/19
Bunny Villaire
Outgrowths As They Crop
Breeze and breath now intertwined.
Tell me what on which you wish to dine...
Her hair being such a seductive desert
I munch on between sacred grooming
of the foliage, and odd
outgrowths that erupt...
Out here, amongst the broken earth
that calls us...
The void dispels such unmitigated
terms...
Tonight, like it or not, I'm bound
to it,
and in kind,
I follow a certain set of rules...
To freeze and then nonchalantly French the cuticles
as if nothing has or will happened...
Breeze and breath
are a sort of a theft,
to come and to go as they please...
Tonight I seize them by their tired unraveling
bed-clothes,
and meet you naked in the blessedness that has
made itself known.
©
15/31/19